Jasmine
It has been two months since the worldwide lockdown was announced. Dad and I have caught up on lost sleep, watched all our favourite movies, snacked on experimental home made snacks and read through all the books we had been hoarding on to for ages. I have read out all the memes about people counting their bathroom tiles, holes in their biscuits, and sorting namkeen mixtures by size gradient. The banana bread and dalgona coffee craze has faded away too. In short, just like most of the middle class privileged families, we too are safely secure in our houses with food stock, electricity and resources for the near future. Our only problem now is boredom and the looming threat to health outside.
Dad picked up a new hobby, gardening on the terrace ans making small talk with neighbours. For those of you who don’t know, my dad is the typical angry looking indian dad that barely speaks and is presumed to be on the angry side of the mood spectrum thanks to the resting bitch face syndrome. What most people dont know, is that he too can be funny and goofy like normal people, but it feels unusual to see him acting goofy even for his own kids.
“Arey tu dekh to sahi, kya kheti kari hai maine”
“Khali balti mei mitti bharne se chhat khet nahi ban jati, char baigan kya agg gye ap to kisaan aandolan ka morcha sambhaal liye”
“Arey! Wo to main gaya nahi, koi to hona chaiye na kisaano k haq mei delhi k andar bhi. Sab border pe baithenge to kaise chalega”
“Tu chal naye phool dekh main kitne sundar laya. You tube se dekh k khaad bhi lagayi hai”
“Youtube se dekh k maine b golgappe bnaye the, sari tricks sach nahi hoti uspe”
“Tujhe kya pata, baap ko mat sikha”
“Papa, ye dialogue. Khair lockdown chal ra hai, modiji kuchh bhi karwa sakte hain”
On the terrace, an array of DIY pots are lined up modeled from cracked buckets, tubs and bottles. Lockdown meant I finally got to boss around my dad like a parent and tell him to stay put and not dare to leave the house, so no nursery visits and no new pots until lockdown restrictions are lifted.
A bushy jasmine pot caught my eye, it was in full bloom with bright white flowers on every shoot.
“Sundar hai na, pruning kari thi youtube se dekh k, pehle se kitna achha ho gya dekha”
“Hmmm…… sahi hai” I bent down to take a sniff at the lovely smell. What I did not expect was to be catapulted 20+ years down the memory lane to the sweet memories of running around my nani house during summer break. Behind their house, there was a huge vine of jasmine running from the ground all the way to the terrace that used to flower and fill the staircase with a sweet smell. As a kid I used to love stepping on the staircase step by step and picking flowers one by one. Collecting them to make a gajra for my mom and mami. Opened my eyes and I was back on my terrace goofing around the DIY terrace garden my dad had made. I had read olfactory stimulation could trigger memory, but this one was quite a strong jolt I have to admit. Brain is quite a complicated thing, and more so are memories.
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